Author's Note: I would like to thank all the people that have added my story to their favorite's list. I do appreciate it. This section is sort of…meandering and unfortunately I seem to be no closer to ending the story. Please let me know if you find any horrid spelling errors or terrible grammar mistakes.

Warnings: There isn't anything too shocking in this. There might be potential historical inaccuracies.


For all the dramatics surrounding the social function that was dating, Prussia was beginning to think that it wasn't so bad. Spain wasn't making any unnecessary demands, wasn't complaining, and wasn't doing anything moderately unpleasant – aside from touching him far too much and gazing sappily into his eyes. He had grown accustomed to all the touching. No matter how many times he would push Spain's incessant hand away, it always managed to find its way back onto his arm or (alarmingly) his backside. Was Spain channeling some French perversion? The creeping of hands would suggest yes.

All in all, he considered the morning to have been very pleasant. Spain had immediately dragged him from the car and dashed into the park, which was modest by most standards. The green expanse was heavily planted with trees and rolled down and around a large duck pond. They had the majority of the park to themselves, which was quite strange, given that it was a Sunday. (A lone pretzel vendor made slow tracks around the park, though, and he was the only other person in the vicinity.) Prussia spent the majority of his time simply watching Spain. He watched him dance through the fields, climb a tree (attempt to, anyway), and roll down the hill. He had been precariously close to dropping into the duck pond. Prussia would have left him in there and drove home. There wasn't any way that he would foul up that wonderful car.

When Prussia would ask him if he'd ever been to a park (for he clearly acted like he'd never seen one before) Spain would proclaim, 'I've never been to a German park,' as if there was something wholly unique and spectacular about German parks. He had never been to a Spanish park but imagined that it was fairly similar to the German variety. A park was a park. Prussia told Spain those very words and then the Spaniard had looked at him quite seriously and declared, 'But you are in this park, Gilbert.' He nearly keeled over from the horrid (sweet) sappiness of such an absurd (wonderful) statement.

Prussia continued to watch from his spot on the hill as Spain crouched in front of a gathering of the cutest damn ducks in the world. The small creatures prodded at the country impatiently for food that he did not have. Spain chattered on annoyingly, both to the ducks and occasionally over his shoulder towards Prussia. He would only nod in response to whatever inane comment that fell out of his mouth. ('Gilbe~eert, aren't these cute?' or 'Gilbert, we should have brought bread!')

He stretched back on the grass and listened to Spain instruct the ducks in his heavily accented German. He found it ridiculous (and maybe a little adorable, not that he'd ever mention that out loud). These past few days were some of the strangest for Prussia. He felt as if his world had been turned upside down, as much as he loathed using such a common saying. He had always harbored strange feelings for Spain but had never been forced to examine them so closely and quickly. Once again, his mind turned to their shared past – when Spain had been much, much different. Spain had been in his life for such a long time but they had always kept a comfortable distance. For a few centuries, he had fairly terrified Prussia, with his rampaging through the New World and his insatiable need for conquest. Prussia did enjoy his own wars and country-grabbing, but preferred to keep things…relatively continental. The Spanish Empire had taken conquest to an entirely new level, one that the rest of the world quickly tried to match.

How strange that this once blood thirsty man was now crouching in front of a horde of ducks and blabbering away like an idiot. If one would have told him of this scene four hundred years ago, he would have laughed. Spain had been a monster then. What was a duck to a maniacal, rampaging Spaniard? Dinner. The mere idea of beheading and cooking those ducks for food was probably sickening to Spain now.

To be honest, though Spain had lost most of his power and was weak both economically and militaristically, Prussia preferred him this way. His disposition was mostly gentle now (though he was still known to wave that halberd of his around every once and a while) and his personality pleasant and always happy. Prussia had admired him in the past for his strength (yes, he could both admire and be terrified at the same time), but now he admired him for his carefree and obnoxiously happy attitude. How he managed it, Prussia would probably never know. How did he stay so upbeat when his country was in such dire straits? How did he do it?

"Gilbert, what are you thinking?" Ah. That's right. Spain had been quiet for some time now and when he opened his eyes (he didn't remember closing them), Spain was looming over him. His green eyes were wide and curious. Prussia fidgeted only mildly under that gaze. (And he was quite proud of how still he was able to remain.) "Please tell me."

"I…" He didn't want to admit that he had spent most of his time thinking about him. But why should he hide such knowledge anymore? What did he have to fear? Old habits were hard to kill, though. "I was thinking about how ridiculous you sounded, talking to those stupid ducks."

Spain always managed to smile, no matter what Prussia said to him. He leaned down to kiss his forehead and Prussia scoffed at that. He knew his face was flushed now and his heart was doing that fluttering thing again. He felt exposed here out in the open, with another man over him, touching him so tenderly… "Do you want to know what I was thinking?"

This was so…so damn sappy and girly, but he nodded anyway. Stupid curiosity. Spain touched his cheek and though Prussia's 'this is too mushy!' alarm was blaring in his head, he enjoyed such devoted treatment. (Dammit, he deserved it, didn't he? He was that awesome!) Spain didn't voice his thoughts but merely pressed his mouth to his. He kissed him as he usually did, slowly and lazily. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a door car shut. Normally, this would have probably caused Prussia some trepidation, but he was working very diligently to relax, to allow himself to simply feel

Spain's fingers slipped into his hair and he was pressed into the grass. His mouth didn't leave his and he heard him make a sort of pleased sound in his throat. Prussia was growing very aware of the warm press of Spain's body and of how he shifted ever so slightly atop him. Stupid bastard probably knew exactly what he was doing, getting him all flustered in public. It was probably his plan all along but perhaps…perhaps that wasn't so bad. He still hadn't any idea of what to do with his hands. Did his brother have this problem? (Strange to be thinking of him during…during this.) Did his brother feel this awkward around cute little Italy? Did he struggle to comprehend the matters of heart and the desires of the body? Well, Prussia certainly did. He finally decided to wrap his arms loosely around his body. There. That didn't seem too terrible.

Spain's lips finally lifted and he gazed down at him with such affection that Prussia nearly looked away. He swallowed and suddenly felt anxious and searched for something to say or do. Having him look at him in such a way was…was…suffocating. The good kind. Well, the good and terrifying kind. What did his gaze promise? What did Spain want with him? "W-what were you thinking?" Prussia asked and cursed his idiocy. Couldn't he have thought of something better to say?

"Don't you know?" Spain said, his hand finding his cheek once more. He stroked his skin lightly and his lips quirked up. "Don't you know how much I -." Whatever he was going to say next was drowned out by the most grievous sounds.

"Oh hon hon hooon!" There was no mistaking that damn, hideous voice. "What do we have here, hm?"

If anyone doubted Prussia's strength, they should have seen him launch Spain into the air. He scrambled upwards so quickly that he nearly toppled over from the rapid change in blood flow.

France. Damn him.

France clapped his hands and swooned disgustingly. Right. This was becoming a bad habit – having people interrupt his…his special, nice time with Spain. What cruelty did he inflict to cause the world to act so poorly towards him? France's timing couldn't have been worse. Prussia felt as if the Spaniard was on the verge of saying words that he strangely wanted to hear. He never thought he would think such a thing and knew that if he actually heard those words, he wouldn't know how to react.

Stupid Spain recovered far quickly from the tumble and hopped to his feet. "Francis!" he cried happily and enveloped the taller man in a hug. What a dimwit. How could he go and just tackle France as if they weren't just sharing a potentially life changing moment? Was he really that vapid?

Prussia did not like this. He did not like seeing Spain's arms around that France. He didn't like how Spain smiled so happily and didn't like how France's hands immediately slid down to squeeze at his backside. Couldn't he at least maintain some decency? "What the hell do you want?" Prussia said. Yes, he realized his voice was a bit shrill. And yes, that was a little telling. France smiled sharply.

"Prussia," he said as he pulled Spain as even closer. He could see an almost manic, possessive gleam in his eyes. "I didn't think you had it in you. But I must digress." He paused. "Antonio. We have been looking for you. I didn't think you would be here with him."

What did he mean by that? Prussia felt anger and jealousy clawing at him. He never thought he would be jealous over someone else. He folded his arms across his chest and held back every, biting word he wanted to say (a rare feat), especially when France looked at Spain with such wanton desire. But Spain wasn't returning such looks. His eyes were fixed on him. Spain laughed lightly and disentangled himself from touchy France. He loped back over to Prussia and wrapped his arms around him. "Of course I would be here with him. You are so silly, Francis. Why are you here? How did you know?"

France observed them for a moment and Prussia twitched ever so slightly as Spain took a rather possessive hold of him. Hm. This was a change he did not foresee. France sniffed and folded his arms. "I was sent to fetch you. I thought you would be happier to see me."

"I'm very happy to see you, as always. Perhaps this wasn't the best of times, though. Tell my brother that I will return tomorrow." Spain's tone had changed. His voice was firm, commanding and France's smile faded somewhat. "I know he sent you here."

"Well! Well…" France's shoulders slumped. "Yes, of course he sent me here. But I was worried for you, Antonio. It's not like you to run off without a word." He considered his words for a moment. "Well, you do run off a bit, but it's usually to me." He looked far too smug about that fact. Prussia wanted to hit him with a shoe then. (What? It was the only thing available.)

"Give me a moment, Gilbert," Spain breathed against his ear and then he could only watch as Spain dragged France back up the hillside. The pair spoke quietly and France did quite a bit of nodding. Then France put his hands on him and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Spain allowed it – he even embraced him. Gilbert turned away at the sight, which squeezed at his heart almost painfully.

Spain was beloved by so many. He should have known that something like this would happen. He was silly to think that -. His negative thoughts flooded the moment Spain's arms slipped around his waist. His head settled on his shoulder. "Gilbert, don't be upset with me."

"Of course I'm upset!" he said.

"But why? I didn't think that this meant anything to you." Spain sounded somewhat smug. (Ooh, alliteration.)

Prussia pushed out of his arms and whirled around. "I thought – I thought we had a…thing." That made perfect sense! Certainly!

"A thing?" Spain's eyebrows lifted. He was certain that idiot Spaniard knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Y-yes. I thought we were…that you…and I…" Dammit, he hated being flustered like this! Spain knew exactly what he was doing, he was certain of it. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to react? He didn't want to be too telling. He didn't want Spain to know just how much he affected him already.

"You are adorable when you are jealous. Did you know that?" Prussia sank back onto the grass and dropped his head into his hands. He…he wasn't jealous. Prussia was too awe—ah, who the hell was he kidding? Yes, he was jealous. Jealous and maybe a little frightened of losing something –someone - he had only just acquired. But was he already that selfish, to feel that Spain belonged only to him…? The other country wasted not a moment and settled close beside him, an arm sliding around his waist. "What I want with you…what I want…well, it's not the same with Francis. I love him, but…" His words were hesitant and it was rare to see him uncomfortable with his words.

What did Spain mean, though? What could he say to that? At his silence, Spain pressed forward, speaking haltingly but not without feeling. "Francis is very dear to me. We have our difference, but the fact is…I rely on him a great deal. Probably too much. Yes, I love him but you are different. You have always been different."

"I don't understand," Prussia said, giving way to honesty for once. That felt strange, to admit that he didn't understand.

"France tells me what I want to hear. He'll go out of his way to make sure I'm happy and comfortable. You have never hesitated to tell me exactly what you are thinking, no matter how harsh those words might be. I've always appreciated that."

"But you let him kiss you. You allowed it."

"It was the only way to get him to leave."

He eyed him suspiciously and Spain threw his head back and laughed. "Well, it's true!" he managed.

"If we are going to have this…thing," Prussia began. He couldn't say 'relationship.' Not yet. "You need to stop letting people kiss you…and you don't need to kiss other people, either." He knew he was being very forward and demanding, but Spain's eyes practically lit up and he laughed once more.

"Oh? So, you only want me to kiss you? That's good because I only plan on kissing you. We can start right now," Spain said, leering at him.

Prussia carefully evaded his lips. "Not in public. What's this about France being sent by your brother? Do you trust France to relay the message? The last thing I need is Portugal harassing me." (Crazy, crazy Portugal.)

"We can trust France. Besides, I invited him to dinner for his good deed." Spain was much too happy about that.

Wait. Dinner? Dinner with France? "Did you just invite that frog into my house?"

"It's not your house. It's Germany's. I'm sure Germany won't say no, especially when he promised Italy that he could cook with me." So. He plotted behind his back with that little (cute) Italian. Prussia could never be upset with Italy. He was too damn adorable. "Oh!" Spain leapt to his feet and hurried up the hill. The move was so sudden that Prussia flopped over and was left staring with much confusion at Spain's back. Spain bounded (he was always bounding someplace…) up the hillside and he disappeared over the crest. What was he planning now?

The Spaniard soon returned with a pair of giant pretzels and smiled happily down at Prussia. He plopped beside him and pressed the warm pretzel to his hands. "I've always wanted to try a German pretzel. I wonder how tasty they are. That vendor was very nice too. Let me have one for free."

He was left wondering what Spain had used for money, but these pretzels couldn't have cost too much so he put that small worry aside. Spain bit into his pretzels and sighed rather dramatically, his eyes fluttering closed. Prussia thought the pretzel tasted…well, like a pretzel. But with the noises Spain was making, one would think it was simply the most divine tasting piece of food in the entirety of the world. Spain's pretzel didn't seem to last long and soon, his head pillowed against his shoulder. Spain's hand idly stroked at his thigh and Prussia mostly tried to ignore it.

Then the idiot decided it was a perfectly good idea to fall asleep. For the first ten minutes, Prussia stoically sat upwards but the soft snoring in his ear was beginning to irritate him. He gently pushed him into the grass and the man muttered something softly in Spanish and pawed at him. Prussia smacked his hand and Spain frowned, but soon quieted. Prussia rested his head against his knee and simply watched him sleep. This was fast becoming a habit for him, he supposed.

Spain looked so damn peaceful when he slept. How did he manage it? He was in such an unguarded state, exposed…before he realized it, his hand was on his face. His fingers gently stroked his face and hair. He was feeling bold, without those eyes to judge him, to watch him. Prussia leaned down and kissed his forehead. Well, he wasn't bold enough for anything else, though. Not yet…

The afternoon passed slowly and for the better part of two hours, Prussia kept watch over Spain's sleeping form. He had given into another temptation and stretched out alongside him. Spain had happily snuggled against his side and tossed an arm over his body. Prussia thought it was probably intentional but allowed it. He would never tell him, but he did like him this close.

Spain was groggy when he woke, but gave him a loopy smile and a tight hug. "Let's…go walking, Gilbert," he had said sleepily. At first, the 'walking' was merely him dragging a sleepy Spain around. The twit refused to let go of him and laughed every time Prussia would flush as they passed someone else on the sidewalk. Finally, Spain decided to stop draping himself over him and merely held his hand. He had frequently squeezed out of it but Spain's hand was always quick to find his.

They walked without any particular destination in mind. He had no idea how many storefronts he was forced to stop in front of so Spain could press his face to the glass and gaze longingly at whatever trinkets or goods on display. Spain had a comment for everything and talked cheerfully to every person that they passed. Along the way, Prussia acquired a small loaf of bread for Spain and his ducks. Upon seeing it, Spain immediately wanted to return to the park. Spain then spent the better part of an hour feeding all those absolutely cute ducks. But then the sun was fast drawing towards the horizon and darkness was clawing across the sky. Stupid…Earth rotation…(Yes, that was a perfectly valid insult.)

"I'm hungry," Spain finally said, signaling an end to all of…this…this day, which was probably one of the most revealing days of his life. Truthfully, he didn't want to go back. Going back meant sharing Spain with others and potentially exposing his true feelings to everyone else. He wasn't ready for that. He didn't want anyone else to know how far he had fallen already. Spain smiled at him so easily and his lips kissed his cheek. "Let's go, Gilbert. Italy's waiting."

Italy he did not mind. The little Italian could be so damn airheaded sometimes that he wasn't much of a threat. Germany probably already had some idea, since he had come upon Spain molesting him the other day. France…pervy damn France also knew…well, they all at least knew that he desired Spain. Who did not desire Spain?

But, they didn't know that he loved Spain.

He wasn't ready for them to know.

And so when he finally parked his borrowed car in Germany's garage, he felt uncharacteristically anxious. Spain didn't seem to notice – he was practically bouncing with excitement and babbled endlessly of what kinds of foods he wished to cook and how cute Italy was and so forth. Spain leapt from the car and dashed inside, calling Italy's name and Prussia slowly (agonizingly) followed afterwards. But when he came indoors, he noticed Spain had stopped right in the entranceway to the front sitting parlor. His back was stiff and he seemed oddly hesitant. Then, he turned from the parlor and walked down the hallway towards the kitchen without a single word.

What brought that on? Prussia hurried to the parlor, wanting to see what shook Spain up so much. There was his brother, sitting on one of the plush couches. Huh. Germany never sat in here, not unless…his eyes turned to the other couch. And there he was, a cup tea in hand.

It was that stupid aristocrat.